


Shameless

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-24 16:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: Aziraphale sucked in a breath. "Good Lord."It was the same thing he said in Paris when he was caught and chained in the Bastille. Crowley sat on the couch again and crossed his one leg over the other. His dress hiked up more over his leg and left a flash of a lace undergarment that Aziraphale noticed without meaning to. He coughed into his burgundy sleeve."Did you uh make an Effort for this?"Crowley gulped quickly and responded with a dazzling smile to throw him off the prickles of nerves that had Crowley sweating. "Why? Did you want to see, angel?"





	1. Shameless Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [focusfixated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/focusfixated/gifts).

> Crowley is deep in want for Aziraphale and when faced with the shock of Aziraphale wanting him to be Warlock's Nanny, Crowley makes an Effort that washes away all his worries.

"So many mornings I woke up confused  
In my dreams, I do anything I want to you  
My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind"  
\- Camilla Cabello 

I am shattered in want. In need. Desperation sinking into my bones and drowning me beyond saving. All I do is lie awake at night picturing your likeness, a cruel imposter, and imagine all the things I would do and say to you. 

***

I want to feel like I am being split open, torn, broken, ripped up into pieces, starved, knotted hands, strangled throat, fingers shivering and an electric wire shocking me all through my spine right down to my toes. I want to burn. I want your hands on me to feel like branding. I want your teeth to sink into my skin so deep it draws blood that my very essence may sit and burst on your tongue. I need you to drown me, then drink me all into your being. I want to travel through your veins and merge with your blood - become a part of you. 

I want to be so deeply rooted in you that you would die if you were to remove me. I want to be close enough that my heart beats when your heart beats. That my fingers are your fingers, your hands on my skin is the same as my hands on your skin. Our air, the oxygen in our lungs that bear a part of us are the same. That the very cells that make up me are the exact shape and ingredients that make up you. 

Give me life so I can learn to sing your praises. Tell me your Joy so I can scream it to the world. Show me your weakness that I may love them as I love my own. Let me see you cry so that I may wipe your tears and hold you close. Speak your thoughts so I may listen. Hold out your hand so that I may take it. Laugh and be free with me that you never have to worry. 

Most of all open your heart so that I may know who you are, to enter in and I promise to keep it safe. 

***

The words were thick, like iron in his mouth, sulphur burning his tongue. His throat constricted like his viper-self, cut off, forced to shut up. He had spent 6000 years finding ways to hint, persuade, coax Aziraphale into knowing the truth he tried to not speak of, something he knew he could not have and what he desperately needed to deny. He was sure that he was put on this Earth to suffer when he Fell. He had envisioned his sentence at not being good enough as an eternity of loneliness. He would have never guessed in a 1000 years how that suffering was not one born out of worldly pain of servitude to Satan and Hell, the loss of love from Her, and the vile demonic missions he had to carry out despite his honest and caring true nature. 

No. His suffering was a plump cloud-white haired angel in tartan bowties and cream puff stained lips, book lover, and a completely stubborn and mildly moronic creature that just so happened to capture his attention way back when they met in Eden at the Eastern Gate. One look at the bright glow of Aziraphale and he was sparked with curiosity as always. Even more so when the good little guardian had lost the flaming sword he was given. It was then that the wanting started, etched into his bones as if imprinted there against his will by something neither from Hell, Heaven or Earth. It was of his own making. Something drenched from within the trenches of himself that sought Aziraphale for himself, that burst of starlight that mirrored the balls of old gases and firey rocks up in space. He had been poured over with the finest, most delectable wine and he was constantly intoxicated. 

The years he had miraculously bumped into Aziraphale that it could be considered a habit, he had wanted nothing but to know the angel. He wanted to understand this searing hot need in his bones that ached to be touched and looked at by Aziraphale. In Rome when Crowley had said he had never eaten an oyster, Aziraphale had responded with that excitement of sharing something with him when he said "Oh! Let me tempt you to..." 

Temptation. That his was job. That was what he was made to do in this world. Tempt humans in order for the hands of Satan to get his followers and build his masses for the Great War between Heaven and Hell. But Crowley had never even thought of Aziraphale ever saying that word. Tempt. Yes. Oh yes, he was tempting him. With that suggestive smile, twinkling azure eyes, eagerness to eat of the aphrodisiac meal that was meant to be shared between the two of them. Oh, did the angel even know what he was saying? Implying!? 

This grandness of want that Crowley had sat with for centuries magnified and overflowed that he had no idea where to store it anymore. He was terrified that it spill out of his mouth and bleed red onto Aziraphale's warm and light clothing, soaking it, ruining it. Tearing him down and buring him to ashes as Crowley was so good at doing. He swallowed each word down into his belly. Into the pits of himself where they laid in darkness gathering and expanding over a vastness that Crowley dared not explore. This magnitude would stay. The itch under his skin had to be bearable. He had to live with it. Even if it destroyed him. 

Because for Crowley it was worse than the Fall.

It was 11 years before the End of Days and Crowley had decided that he had come up with some plan to stop this blasted Armageddon. He could not lose the lunches that he and Aziraphale shared, the aging wine they drank together, the drives in the Bentley, the late nights at the bookshop. He had to make Aziraphale stay. He had to have this. They were in the bookshop when it happened. Crowley had just explained his plan of them playing Godfather's to the Anti Christ who would bring about Doomsday. Aziraphale had actually agreed (although he seemed to agree with Crowley more than the petty arguments they had, little bickers and small quarrels over stupid things). Crowley was pleased at this. He began coming up with disguises for themselves when Aziraphale twisted Crowley's tongue with his words to stop his speech entirely. 

"You could be a domineering sexy Nanny that may or may not have done work in certain magazines if you know what I mean." He winked.

He must have been incredibly drunk to be saying these things, Crowley thought. But he had watched Aziraphale expel the alcohol content from his body hours ago. His curls swayed each time spoke although Crowly had stopped listening, too entirely stunned to move, Aziraphale's shoulders were wiggling in happiness. His electric-blue eyes focused on him and he found it extremely hard to look away. That was the thing when Aziraphale looked at you. You felt like you were the only thing in existence. He saw you. He really saw you and you wanted to bask in his admiration, and you wanted to go on your knees and shout praise because he noticed you, because you were the object of his attention for however long you were. 

"WHAT?" Crowley stopped him with a gesture of his hand in the air. "What are you talking about?" 

"Well, you said we need a disguise and I thought it was would quite nice to have you in your female form again. If you wish. I would rather like to play a gardener. Young Warlock's family has a lovely garden that I would like to see to. I know you are the gardener, Crowley, more knowledgeable than me, but I know you do not like the creatures and all that stuff so why don't I do that and you can be the caregiver? What do you say?" 

"A nanny?" Crowley pondered on that for a second. "Like Mary Poppins? Hm." 

"Yes! And you could curl your hair up and wear a hat and have a black long dress..." 

Crowley smirked, leaving back into the comfortable couch he was sitting on. "You've thought about this, haven't you?" 

Aziraphale blushed. "I...I don't know what you mean." 

"You've thought about me wearing a dress, haven't you?" Crowley had no idea where the sudden courage was coming from but the idea of the Aziraphale picturing him in a dress was enough to pry and prod him for information. 

"Um," Aziraphale visibly flushed and that made Crowley raise his brow in surprise. "Maybe. Okay. Once. But this is a perfect opportunity! You cannot miss it! Don't you want to?" 

There he was! Pouting again. Begging. Asking things of Crowley that he knew he would give him. It was not like he forced him though. Crowley was happy to do it. The whole Nanny business was an interesting idea. He placed his finger to chin, scratching it in thought. 

"I could pin my hair up? Have a grey overcoat. Miracle the exact umbrella Mary Poppins had in the movie with Julia Andrews. Could be fun, angel." 

"Oh goody! This will be so fun. I am quite excited." He smiled happily and Crowley's chest got tight. 

The years weighed heavily on him and although he wanted more years with Aziraphale (which was precisely why he was planning on diverting Armageddon in the first place) he could not bear to suffer with this any longer. Enduring. Silently carrying on despite the desperation for more. More than this. More lunches, more drunken nights, more of Aziraphale. More of him in the way that he knew was not purely lust. It never was. He did not only want to sink into his skin, he also wanted to be loved by the angel. He wanted to be one of his books that he cherished dearly and looked after. Wanted to be eaten and savoured like a tart that Aziraphale closed his eyes for. And pleaded for seconds. He wanted every night to be told he was more than just a a cold-crusted shell, a hollow entity, a fiery haired dark demon with no purpose and no place to belong to. 

"I suppose I should try out my new body," Crowley said as he stood up. 

Aziraphale's face faltered with a grim, near panic expression. "What? Now?" 

"Yeah. Why not?" Crowley took his black waist coat off. 

"Are...are you...undressing?" The high pitched tone made Crowley laugh. 

It amused Crowley to hear his anxiety, but that was hidden over the bone-deep torture of the fact that Aziraphale did not want to see him undress. Ever. He covered his disappointment with a grin. 

"Nah, just getting myself comfortable. Can't have that kind of waistcoat on me when I grow a pair of breasts, right?" 

Aziraphale swallowed hard. "Yes. Right you are. Carry on. Don't mind me." 

Crowley shimmered in a pale light for a few seconds before his body changed shaped and his attire transformed into a long black dress that was skin tight, and much to Aziraphale's shock, made of leather. There was a zip in the front at the bottom of the material all the way to the top where Crowley's bustline appeared too revealing for a Nanny. His long legs were shaven and smooth. His ankles were strapped in a heeled shoe. Crowley's lips were shaded a glitter purple and his eyelids had a smokey look with just a glimmer of gold glitter that complimented his yellow snake-eyes. 

"Do you like this?" Crowley knew this was not the outfit appropriate for Nannies, but he wanted to tease Aziraphale. 

(Not that he thought it would work.) 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. "Good Lord." 

It was the same thing he said in Paris when he was caught and chained in the Bastille. Crowley sat on the couch again and crossed his one leg over the other. His dress hiked up more over his leg and left a flash of a lace undergarment that Aziraphale noticed without meaning to. He coughed into his burgundy sleeve. 

"Did you uh make an Effort for this?" 

Crowley gulped quickly and responded with a dazzling smile to throw him off the prickles of nerves that had Crowley sweating. "Why? Did you want to see, angel?" 

Aziraphale sucked on his lower lip. "No. No. That's...um just wondering." He looked up at the ceiling that seemed more interesting than Crowley at the moment. "You just have underwear on and I was just asking." 

"I do. Lace. Hot pink. Saw it in the mall the other day." Crowley watched with fascination at the way Aziraphale was nervously playing with his hands. Was it possible he was getting a reaction out of Aziraphale? "And yes, angel, I did make an Effort."

Aziraphale made a choked sound. "Oh. W-why-why did you make an Effort?" He cleared his throat. "I mean why would you need it?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know? Want to come here and find out?" He opened his legs and his soft garment was exposed. 

Aziraphale could not tear his eyes away from the growing wet spot, tried hard to ignore the smell that wafted to his nose. It was sweet and intoxicating to Aziraphale's senses. He did not even realise he had closed his eyes, his breathing rapidly increased. Crowley stared with golden eyes at Aziraphale without blinking. His mind reeling with all the memories of when he laid on his bed sweaty and naked, only thinking of the bleached haired angel, his dreams were filled with flashes of his skin, the curve of his neck, the arch of his collarbones that he longed to bite and suck and taste. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale murmered with a hoarse voice. 

Crowley responded with a whine and motioned to come towards him. Aziraphale toppled over with urgency and fell go his knees in front of Crowley, drawing his legs further apart. Aziraphale nuzzled his nose against the fabric, he drew in a deep breath, a moan escaping his lips. He sucked the lace into his mouth and Crowley bucked eagerly into him. He was soaking and tasted exquisite on his tongue. Aziraphale glided his hands up the ends of the dress, pushing it higher, peeling the lace underwear down his legs and off his feet. He lifed one of Crowley's legs over his shoulder as he licked the moisture between his folds. 

Crowley groaned. "Yes! Fuck! This is what I wanted...this is what I have been dreaming about for centuries." 

Aziraphale thrust his tongue into Crowley's entrance in agreement. "Oh, God. Yes, yes. I pictured this. Pictured many things like this in fact. All with you. Doing this with you. Pleasing you. Telling you how good you are. Oh, Crowley!" 

Crowley grunted as his hips bucked with each desperate trace and swipe of Aziraphale's mouth on him. "Satan Below! You're a hedonist!" He gasped when Aziraphale placed a thick finger inside of him. "Fucking shameless! When did you get so..ssssooo....Holy Hell! Yes! Like that!" 

"For you. For you, Crowley. My love." 

Crowley came with a trembling shake of his limbs. He was seeped with sweat and Aziraphale pulled back, his lips glistening with his moisture, a satisfied smile on his face like he had just eaten his favourite meal. The light in Aziraphale's eyes was enough to set a dead star ablaze again. Crowley gazed helplessly down at him. 

"It's always been you, darling. How did you not know I wanted you?" Aziraphale said. 

Crowley bit his lip in shame. "I thought I could never...that it was impossible." 

"Nothing is impossible if you believe. And I believe in you. I always have. Come upstairs with me. Let me show you all the love I had to hide."


	2. Shameless Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The void of love. 
> 
> Not without love. Being so emerced in it that it takes over you. You cannot feel anything else. There is nothing. Nothing but you in the void. You cannot do anything about it. It follows you. Travels with you wherever you go because it has already soaked into your skin, already flows through your blood, already is pumping in your heart. It knows you. It is you. 
> 
> And dammit there is absolutely no way you can forget it. Why would you though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For T,
> 
> I was asked to do this, so I did.

Don't speak, no, don't try  
It's been a secret for the longest time  
Don't run, huh, no don't hide  
Been running from it for the longest time

\- Camilla Cabello 

***

The kind of want that makes you lay in the dark and try to extend yourself into the universe to try to find where the missing piece of you is and only coming up empty. Because that person is out there and you are here, there is a certain helplessness to it that is honest and although it creates this grinding in your veins like the wail of a lonely cry for help, you enjoy it almost. It makes you realise that you are alive. Pain reminds you that you are real. There is a double edged sword in loving. Loving someone who is millions of galaxies away. Knowing that you can never reach then just like you cannot reach for the stars when standing on the ground on Earth. You can see them clearly from below, but you know you can never touch them. So you romanticise them, yearn for them, write poetry describing them. They aren't yours. 

The universe is big but it is not nearly big enough to contain my love. 

The dangers with loving in the dark is it is like a black hole swallowing you whole, completely and utterly devouring you. There is nothing left after you give in to it, recognise what it is. Once you name it and accept it then you are falling down a bottomless pit. You keep going down forever. It never gets better. See that's what I don't get with these stories of Forbidden love. It is not pretty. It is not this amazing thing you can write novels about where the couple goes through enormous trials where they are kept apart but somehow find a way to be together in the end. No. That is not the truth. The truth is it is painful and you do not normally get that happy ending. In fact many people actually don't. It is a tragedy story for a reason. 

Shakespeare did not write Romeo and Juliet for you to want a love story where you are just young children wanting affection and you decide to be together on a whim one night and kill yourselves two days later. It is bloody. It is war. And believe me I know war. Not everyone gets saved, but there is the good in trying. 

And here is the other side of love. 

It is brand new each time. Like a flower growing with each spring, fresh petals and brighter colours. Each time you love it is better than before. Stronger, more intense. There is something beautiful in loving all worlds, and everyone you have the privilege of meeting, it means you appreciate them. Care for them. Protect them. Here is the kicker though. There are many types of love. And it is still as beautiful. But this type of love washes over you like an ocean - stunningly exquisite to admire and wander at its vastness and all the secrets in the trenches underneath, the longing to adventure and explore all the parts of it. Yet there is the dark part, the unknown, the weight of it, the violent crashes of waves, the gasping for air and suffocating effect that you cannot avoid. Drowning. Oh, how you love to drown. It is quiet. Peaceful. Silent. You can think. There is a certain calmness in being in a void. 

The void of love. 

Not without love. Being so emerced in it that it takes over you. You cannot feel anything else. There is nothing. Nothing but you in the void. You cannot do anything about it. It follows you. Travels with you wherever you go because it has already soaked into your skin, already flows through your blood, already is pumping in your heart. It knows you. It is you. 

And dammit there is absolutely no way you can forget it. Why would you though? 

Except in the dark you want to forget. In the dark you can speak and the space will be the ones who hear you. You do not want to be in the dark. Trust me. The darkness feeds off of it and you cannot deny it. Once the darkness knows your secrets you are doomed. Then every time you are there in your bed it will remind you each time of the void and you will sit in this agonising want until morning breaks. It may seem like a short time. I know it never feels short, no, time has no place here. Endless hours and stretches of replaying, concentrating, feeling. 

This is why it is forbidden. 

***

Crowley felt his heart pumping in his chest, his throat thick and chest tight, his body sweating like no other and his legs shaking as he made his way into Aziraphale's bedroom that was not there previously. It was a room at the far back of the bookshop. The room was spacious enough and the double bed was filled with a ying and yang style bedspread. He smirked a little, thinking how Aziraphale had manifested this with them in mind. 

"Lay down for me," Aziraphale whispered and Crowley complied. 

His back hit the bed and Aziraphale's hands were stroking his legs lovingly, murmuring adoration and compliments that made his eyes close. He had waited so long for him to say those words, craved it. Needing it like the air in the lungs of all The Almighty's creatures. He sucked in a breath as Aziraphale unzipped the material that it fell in two halves on either side of his body. He looked down at his handy work and saw how he sculpted his body. He created two supple breasts, narrow hips and a taunt stomach, his Effort was still wet from when Aziraphale had tasted it and it was well kept with fair red hairs covering it. He could smell himself and he knew Aziraphale could too. He watched Aziraphale's eyes rake down his body with unbidden desire and lust. His legs shook with the anticipation. 

"You know how long I have pictured you like this? Underneath me? Vulnerable. Naked. Powerless under my touch. I spent hours touching myself to this exact image. You in all forms. Me pleasing you every way. All positions against all surfaces." 

"Angel," he gasped at the lewd words coming out of the mouth of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. "You're so filthy!" 

"As I recall, it was you tempting me this way. You with your narrow hips, and God forsaken tongue, your beautiful body and words. Always buying me lunch? Treats. Getting me drunk. You have been wanting me all along haven't you?" 

"Not going to deny that. What took you so long?" 

He groaned as Aziraphale licked a stripe towards his groin, nipping and sucking at the flesh. 

"Had to be certain you wanted me back. Didn't read the signs. I was stupid. Forgive me, Crowley." 

"No. I was stupid, angel. You're perfect. So good." 

"Yes I am. Good to you." 

Aziraphale breathed against his warm, wet cunt, making Crowley shiver. He trailed his tongue from the bottom to the top between the folds, before swirling it on the sensitive clit. 

"So beautiful. You taste so sweet." 

Crowley let out a groan and Aziraphale's beautiful, sculpted hands were roaming all over his body. He moved up, much to the demon's protest, and kissed along his stomach up to his breasts. He sucked on the pert nub, nibbling and twisting with his fingers. Crowley could feel the tension in the pit of his stomach, rolling him waves of heat. Aziraphale's love had entered in chest, flowing through him over the milena and milena they spent together. He was consumed in it. Gasping, Crowley pulled at the blonde curls. Aziraphale sucked harshly into his flesh and made marks on his skin. 

"Mine. My Crowley." 

The demon whimpered. "Yours. I was always yours." 

He massaged Crowley's twin breasts in his hands, loving the feeling of him in his warm hands. Crowley had his head thrown back and his mouth was open puffing soft breaths of excitement and desire. Aziraphale nuzzled his head in between his thighs again. This time his tongue inserted itself into Crowley's wet folds. He lapped happily, remembering the taste and feeling that he enjoyed from when he had Crowley on the couch. Aziraphale moaned, vibrating Crowley's insides as he gripped his curls. Aziraphale did not want Crowley to finish yet. He wanted to ravish him more. Make it last. 

"I love every inch of you." 

His tongue traced and licked the moisture once more before he sat up. His lips were red and some of his wetness still clung to Aziraphale's mouth. Crowley gnawed at his lip to stop him from growling in frustration at how amazingly sexy his angel looked after tasting him. If he had known that he going to get this he would have said something sooner. He was so bloody lucky! He was the luckiest fucker in the world to have him! 

"I love you, angel. So much I feel like I'm gonna break into pieces." 

Aziraphale's eyes softened and he smiled warmly. "I got you now, Crowley. You aren't going to break. I am going to hold you and love you until you fit back together again." 

He sucked in a breath, the emotions burning within him. "You don't have to save me, angel." 

"I know. But I want to love you. I want to love you so you love yourself. You are so precious, my dear. I want you to be happy. You deserve it." 

"I do?" A single tear rolled down his face. 

"Of course." Aziraphale kissed him some more, fiercely, pushing every ounce of his love into Crowley that he was drowning in it. 

He gripped Crowley's fiery curls yanking on it as he explored his mouth with his tongue. He would never get used to the taste. He seated himself securely in between Crowley's legs, lifting himself up just a fraction to position himself at Crowley's dripping entrance. He pressed in just a bit and the demon gasped. 

"Please," he begged, his eyes wide and desperate. 

Aziraphale slowly pressed himself in inch by inch, his heavy breaths fanning against Crowley's hot neck. His nails bit into Aziraphale's plush shoulders. Aziraphale let out a deep moan pulled from inside from the all centuries he had pretended not to care for Crowley. He was finally able to release himself. His cheeks wet with tears as he bedded Crowley long loving strokes. It was overwhelming. It filled Aziraphale in the most collapsing, heated love he had ever felt. More than he did in Heaven. It was Crowley's. Crowley's love was emulating from his body through his pores and filling into Aziraphale's cells. He could feel Crowley under his skin. In every breath he took, he matched Crowley's. They stared into each other's eyes barely believing it themselves as it was happening. 

"Good Heavens, I feel....you feel so good," Aziraphale moaned unable to contain it. He pushed in deeper, harder, dragging out and pulling in.

"I feel you, too. All of you. If I had known it was going to be like this. I am sorry I waited. I am sorry I went too fast for you." 

"No, dear boy. It was me. I was not ready. I am now. Saving the world with you, that's what I want to do. You made a convincing argument and I truly believe that we could divert Armageddon. Good and evil cancelling each other out." 

Aziraphale breathed in deeply as pleasure racked his limbs. Crowley was hot and tight and incredibly wet. For him. He wanted him just as much. Crowley was seeing stars behind his lids as he shut them to fully feel every sensation. He could smell the sweat on their bodies meeting together, their bodies merging as one, two parts into each other that fit perfectly. Crowley cried out as Aziraphale pressed so deep in him that he could feel himself tearing apart mentally (and perhaps physically as well. He was not accustomed to making love in this body after all). 

"Nott-ccancelling...maybe two forces so alike in p-p-power...oh God! Yes! Like that!...that they are similar and maybe...ahh I don't know what I am saying..." 

"Crowley! I think I know what you're saying...we balance each other out. Us. Don't worry about the boy now. You and me. Like this. I wasn't even thinking of the consequences when I led you to bed. What if I was made of something that destroyed you? This human skin, this body could have been created to burn you or worse? My body is meant to be holy...I didn't think. Perhaps we are not so different after all? Look at us, Crowley! I am making love to you. And it's so good and grand and the best thing I have ever done! I love you! And if the world is ending then I am so glad to have met you. I have loved you all these years and I will love you still after it." 

" 'Zira...I...ah!...love you." 

Now Aziraphale was pounding into him relentlessly. He was not afraid to show it. This demon was his and his alone. He pushed their bodies further and further together, so much so he was scared that they would both split in half. The demon was whimpering incoherent sentences, his snake tongue talking in languages long forgotten. Aziraphale could hear all the words of praises of how Crowley loved him. His entire body tingled and flooded with immense pleasure and it flowed through his limbs like liquid fire. Crowley bit hard into the flesh of Aziraphale's neck as he reached his climax.

A broken sob filled the air. "Angel!" 

Aziraphale came soon after, relinquishing in what they had done. His hair was plastered to his face, sweat gleamed off his neck and chest. He nuzzled into Crowley and wrapped himself up in him as his breathing slowed down. Crowley's hand came out to gently play with his hair. This was what they always needed.

"Angel?" 

"Yes dear?" 

"You're the one thing I never questioned."


End file.
